章节正文
A splendid country for hunting! You were
awfully fond of shooting, you know! . . . And
Bela?" . . .
Pechorin turned just the slightest bit pale and
averted his head.
"Yes, I remember!" he said, almost im-
mediately forcing a yawn.
Maksim Maksimych began to beg him to stay
with him for a couple of hours or so longer.
"We will have a splendid dinner," he said.
"I have two pheasants; and the Kakhetian wine
is excellent here . . . not what it is in Georgia,
of course, but still of the best sort. . . We will
have a talk. . . You will tell me about your
life in Petersburg. . . Eh?" . . .
"In truth, there's nothing for me to tell, dear
Maksim Maksimych. . . However, good-bye,
it is time for me to be off. . . I am in a hurry. . .
I thank you for not having forgotten me," he
added, taking him by the hand.
The old man knit his brows. He was
grieved and angry, although he tried to hide
his feelings.
"Forget!" he growled. "I have not for-
gotten anything. . . Well, God be with you! . . .
It is not like this that I thought we should meet."
"Come! That will do, that will do!" said
Pechorin, giving him a friendly embrace. "Is
it possible that I am not the same as I used to
be? . . . What can we do? Everyone must
go his own way. . . Are we ever going to
meet again? -- God only knows!"
While saying this he had taken his seat in the
carriage, and the coachman was already gathering
up the reins.
"Wait, wait!" cried Maksim Maksimych
suddenly, holding on to the carriage door. "I
was nearly forgetting altogether. Your papers
were left with me, Grigori Aleksandrovich. . .
I drag them about everywhere I go. . . I
thought I should find you in Georgia, but this
is where it has pleased Heaven that we should
meet. What's to be done with them?" . . .
"Whatever you like!" answered Pechorin.
"Good-bye." . . .
"So you are off to Persia? . . . But when will
you return?" Maksim Maksimych cried after
him.
By this time the carriage was a long way off,
but Pechorin made a sign with his hand which
might be interpreted as meaning:
"It is doubtful whether I shall return, and
there is no reason, either, why I should!"
The jingle of the bell and the clatter of the
wheels along the flinty road had long ceased to
be audible, but the poor old man still remained
standing in the same place, deep in thought.
"Yes," he said at length, endeavouring to
assume an air of indifference, although from
time to time a tear of vexation glistened on his
eyelashes. "Of course we were friends -- well,
but what are friends nowadays? . . . What
could I be to him? I'm not rich; I've no rank;
and, moreover, I'm not at all his match in years! --
See what a dandy he has become since he has
been staying in Petersburg again! . . . What a
carriage! . . . What a quantity of luggage! . . .
And such a haughty manservant too!" . . .
These words were pronounced with an ironical
smile.
"Tell me," he continued, turning to me,
"what do you think of it? Come, what the
devil is he off to Persia for now? . . . Good
Lord, it is ridiculous -- ridiculous! . . . But I
always knew that he was a fickle man, and one
you could never rely on! . . . But, indeed, it
is a pity that he should come to a bad end . . .
yet it can't be otherwise! . . . I always did say
that there is no good to be got out of a man who
forgets his old friends!" . . .
Hereupon he turned away in order to hide his
agitation and proceeded to walk about the court-
yard, around his cart, pretending to be examining
the wheels, whilst his eyes kept filling with tears
every moment.
"Maksim Maksimych," I said, going up to
him, "what papers are these that Pechorin left
you?"
"Goodness knows! Notes of some sort" . . .
"What will you do with them?"
"What? I'll have cartridges made of them."
"Hand them over to me instead."
He looked at me in surprise, growled some-
thing through his teeth, and began to rummage
in his portmanteau. Out he drew a writing-book
and threw it contemptuously on the ground;
then a second -- a third -- a tenth shared the same
fate. There was something childish in his
vexation, and it struck me as ridiculous and
pitiable. . .
"Here they are," he said. "I congratulate
you on your find!" . . .
"And I may do anything I like with them?"
"Yes, print them in the newspapers, if you like.
What is it to me? Am I a friend or relation of
his? It is true that for a long time we lived
under one roof . . . but aren't there plenty of
people with whom I have lived?" . . .
I seized the papers and lost no time in carry-
ing them away, fearing that the staff-captain
might repent his action. Soon somebody came
to tell us that the "Adventure" would set off in
an hour's time. I ordered the horses to be
put to.
I had already put my cap on when the staff-
captain entered the room. Apparently he had
not got ready for departure. His manner was
somewhat cold and constrained.
"You are not going, then, Maksim Maksim-
ych?"
"No, sir!"
"But why not?"
"Well, I have not seen the Commandant yet,
and I have to deliver some Government things."
"But you did go, you know."
"I did, of course," he stammered, "but he
was not at home . . . and I did not wait."
I understood. For the first time in his life,
probably, the poor old man had, to speak by the
book, thrown aside official business 'for the sake
of his personal requirements' . . . and how he
had been rewarded!
"I am very sorry, Maksim Maksimych, very
sorry indeed," I said, "that we must part sooner
than necessary."
"What should we rough old men be thinking
of to run after you? You young men are
fashionable and proud: under the Circassian
bullets you are friendly enough with us . . . but
when you meet us afterwards you are ashamed
even to give us your hand!"
"I have not deserved these reproaches, Maksim
Maksimych."
"Well, but you know I'm quite right. How-
ever, I wish you all good luck and a pleasant
journey."
We took a rather cold farewell of each other.
The kind-hearted Maksim Maksimych had be-
come the obstinate, cantankerous staff-captain!
And why? Because Pechorin, through ab-
sent-mindedness or from some other cause,
had extended his hand to him when Maksim
Maksimych was going to throw himself on his
neck! Sad it is to see when a young man loses
his best hopes and dreams, when from before
his eyes is withdrawn the rose-hued veil through
which he has looked upon the deeds and feelings
of mankind; although there is the hope that
the old illusions will be replaced by new ones,
none the less evanescent, but, on the other hand,
none the less sweet. But wherewith can they be
replaced when one is at the age of Maksim
Maksimych? Do what you will, the heart
hardens and the soul shrinks in upon itself.
I departed -- alone.
FOREWORD TO BOOKS III, IV, AND V
CONCERNING PECHORIN'S DIARY
I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had
died on his way back from Persia. The news
afforded me great delight; it gave me the right
to print these notes; and I have taken advantage
of the opportunity of putting my name at the
head of another person's productions. Heaven
grant that my readers may not punish me for
such an innocent deception!
I must now give some explanation of the
reasons which have induced me to betray to the
public the inmost secrets of a man whom I never
knew. If I had even been his friend, well and
good: the artful indiscretion of the true friend
is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw
Pechorin once in my life -- on the high-road --
and, consequently, I cannot cherish towards him
that inexplicablehatred, which, hiding its face
under the mask of friendship, awaits but the
death or misfortune of the beloved object to
burst over its head in a storm of reproaches,
admonitions, scoffs and regrets.
On reading over these notes, I have become
convinced of the sincerity of the man who has so
unsparingly exposed to view his own weaknesses
and vices. The history of a man's soul, even the
pettiest soul, is hardly less interesting and
useful than the history of a whole people;
especially when the former is the result of the
observations of a mature mind upon itself, and
has been written without any egoistical desire
of arousing sympathy or astonishment. Rous-
seau's Confessions has precisely this defect -- he
read it to his friends.
And, so, it is nothing but the desire to be useful
awfully fond of shooting, you know! . . . And
Bela?" . . .
Pechorin turned just the slightest bit pale and
averted his head.
"Yes, I remember!" he said, almost im-
mediately forcing a yawn.
Maksim Maksimych began to beg him to stay
with him for a couple of hours or so longer.
"We will have a splendid dinner," he said.
"I have two pheasants; and the Kakhetian wine
is excellent here . . . not what it is in Georgia,
of course, but still of the best sort. . . We will
have a talk. . . You will tell me about your
life in Petersburg. . . Eh?" . . .
"In truth, there's nothing for me to tell, dear
Maksim Maksimych. . . However, good-bye,
it is time for me to be off. . . I am in a hurry. . .
I thank you for not having forgotten me," he
added, taking him by the hand.
The old man knit his brows. He was
grieved and angry, although he tried to hide
his feelings.
"Forget!" he growled. "I have not for-
gotten anything. . . Well, God be with you! . . .
It is not like this that I thought we should meet."
"Come! That will do, that will do!" said
Pechorin, giving him a friendly embrace. "Is
it possible that I am not the same as I used to
be? . . . What can we do? Everyone must
go his own way. . . Are we ever going to
meet again? -- God only knows!"
While saying this he had taken his seat in the
carriage, and the coachman was already gathering
up the reins.
"Wait, wait!" cried Maksim Maksimych
suddenly, holding on to the carriage door. "I
was nearly forgetting altogether. Your papers
were left with me, Grigori Aleksandrovich. . .
I drag them about everywhere I go. . . I
thought I should find you in Georgia, but this
is where it has pleased Heaven that we should
meet. What's to be done with them?" . . .
"Whatever you like!" answered Pechorin.
"Good-bye." . . .
"So you are off to Persia? . . . But when will
you return?" Maksim Maksimych cried after
him.
By this time the carriage was a long way off,
but Pechorin made a sign with his hand which
might be interpreted as meaning:
"It is doubtful whether I shall return, and
there is no reason, either, why I should!"
The jingle of the bell and the clatter of the
wheels along the flinty road had long ceased to
be audible, but the poor old man still remained
standing in the same place, deep in thought.
"Yes," he said at length, endeavouring to
assume an air of indifference, although from
time to time a tear of vexation glistened on his
eyelashes. "Of course we were friends -- well,
but what are friends nowadays? . . . What
could I be to him? I'm not rich; I've no rank;
and, moreover, I'm not at all his match in years! --
See what a dandy he has become since he has
been staying in Petersburg again! . . . What a
carriage! . . . What a quantity of luggage! . . .
And such a haughty manservant too!" . . .
These words were pronounced with an ironical
smile.
"Tell me," he continued, turning to me,
"what do you think of it? Come, what the
devil is he off to Persia for now? . . . Good
Lord, it is ridiculous -- ridiculous! . . . But I
always knew that he was a fickle man, and one
you could never rely on! . . . But, indeed, it
is a pity that he should come to a bad end . . .
yet it can't be otherwise! . . . I always did say
that there is no good to be got out of a man who
forgets his old friends!" . . .
Hereupon he turned away in order to hide his
agitation and proceeded to walk about the court-
yard, around his cart, pretending to be examining
the wheels, whilst his eyes kept filling with tears
every moment.
"Maksim Maksimych," I said, going up to
him, "what papers are these that Pechorin left
you?"
"Goodness knows! Notes of some sort" . . .
"What will you do with them?"
"What? I'll have cartridges made of them."
"Hand them over to me instead."
He looked at me in surprise, growled some-
thing through his teeth, and began to rummage
in his portmanteau. Out he drew a writing-book
and threw it contemptuously on the ground;
then a second -- a third -- a tenth shared the same
fate. There was something childish in his
vexation, and it struck me as ridiculous and
pitiable. . .
"Here they are," he said. "I congratulate
you on your find!" . . .
"And I may do anything I like with them?"
"Yes, print them in the newspapers, if you like.
What is it to me? Am I a friend or relation of
his? It is true that for a long time we lived
under one roof . . . but aren't there plenty of
people with whom I have lived?" . . .
I seized the papers and lost no time in carry-
ing them away, fearing that the staff-captain
might repent his action. Soon somebody came
to tell us that the "Adventure" would set off in
an hour's time. I ordered the horses to be
put to.
I had already put my cap on when the staff-
captain entered the room. Apparently he had
not got ready for departure. His manner was
somewhat cold and constrained.
"You are not going, then, Maksim Maksim-
ych?"
"No, sir!"
"But why not?"
"Well, I have not seen the Commandant yet,
and I have to deliver some Government things."
"But you did go, you know."
"I did, of course," he stammered, "but he
was not at home . . . and I did not wait."
I understood. For the first time in his life,
probably, the poor old man had, to speak by the
book, thrown aside official business 'for the sake
of his personal requirements' . . . and how he
had been rewarded!
"I am very sorry, Maksim Maksimych, very
sorry indeed," I said, "that we must part sooner
than necessary."
"What should we rough old men be thinking
of to run after you? You young men are
fashionable and proud: under the Circassian
bullets you are friendly enough with us . . . but
when you meet us afterwards you are ashamed
even to give us your hand!"
"I have not deserved these reproaches, Maksim
Maksimych."
"Well, but you know I'm quite right. How-
ever, I wish you all good luck and a pleasant
journey."
We took a rather cold farewell of each other.
The kind-hearted Maksim Maksimych had be-
come the obstinate, cantankerous staff-captain!
And why? Because Pechorin, through ab-
sent-mindedness or from some other cause,
had extended his hand to him when Maksim
Maksimych was going to throw himself on his
neck! Sad it is to see when a young man loses
his best hopes and dreams, when from before
his eyes is withdrawn the rose-hued veil through
which he has looked upon the deeds and feelings
of mankind; although there is the hope that
the old illusions will be replaced by new ones,
none the less evanescent, but, on the other hand,
none the less sweet. But wherewith can they be
replaced when one is at the age of Maksim
Maksimych? Do what you will, the heart
hardens and the soul shrinks in upon itself.
I departed -- alone.
FOREWORD TO BOOKS III, IV, AND V
CONCERNING PECHORIN'S DIARY
I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had
died on his way back from Persia. The news
afforded me great delight; it gave me the right
to print these notes; and I have taken advantage
of the opportunity of putting my name at the
head of another person's productions. Heaven
grant that my readers may not punish me for
such an innocent deception!
I must now give some explanation of the
reasons which have induced me to betray to the
public the inmost secrets of a man whom I never
knew. If I had even been his friend, well and
good: the artful indiscretion of the true friend
is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw
Pechorin once in my life -- on the high-road --
and, consequently, I cannot cherish towards him
that inexplicablehatred, which, hiding its face
under the mask of friendship, awaits but the
death or misfortune of the beloved object to
burst over its head in a storm of reproaches,
admonitions, scoffs and regrets.
On reading over these notes, I have become
convinced of the sincerity of the man who has so
unsparingly exposed to view his own weaknesses
and vices. The history of a man's soul, even the
pettiest soul, is hardly less interesting and
useful than the history of a whole people;
especially when the former is the result of the
observations of a mature mind upon itself, and
has been written without any egoistical desire
of arousing sympathy or astonishment. Rous-
seau's Confessions has precisely this defect -- he
read it to his friends.
And, so, it is nothing but the desire to be useful
- embrace [im´breis]
vt.&n.拥抱；采纳；信奉 (初中英语单词) - everyone [´evriwʌn] pron.=everybody 每人 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- departure [di´pɑ:tʃə] n.离开，出发 (初中英语单词)
- farewell [feə´wel] int.再见 n.&a.告别 (初中英语单词)
- punish [´pʌniʃ] vt.(惩)罚；痛击；折磨 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- betray [bi´trei] vt.背叛；辜负；暴露 (初中英语单词)
- hatred [´heitrid] n.憎恨，敌意 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- sympathy [´simpəθi] n.同情，怜悯 (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- georgia [´dʒɔ:dʒjə] n.乔治亚 (高中英语单词)
- persia [´pə:ʃə] n.波斯 (高中英语单词)
- doubtful [´dautful] a.怀疑的，可疑的 (高中英语单词)
- clatter [´klætə] n.&v.喧嚷；骚动 (高中英语单词)
- indifference [in´difrəns] n.冷淡；无足轻重 (高中英语单词)
- haughty [´hɔ:ti] a.傲慢的，高傲的 (高中英语单词)
- pronounced [prə´naunst] a.发出音的；显著的 (高中英语单词)
- ridiculous [ri´dikjuləs] a.荒谬的；可笑的 (高中英语单词)
- whilst [wailst] conj.当...时候；虽然 (高中英语单词)
- repent [ri´pent] v.后悔；悔改；悔悟 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- consequently [´kɔnsikwəntli] ad.因此，所以 (高中英语单词)
- cherish [´tʃeriʃ] vt.珍爱；怀有(感情) (高中英语单词)
- misfortune [mis´fɔ:tʃən] n.不幸；灾祸 (高中英语单词)
- mature [mə´tjuə] a.成熟的 v.(使)成熟 (高中英语单词)
- precisely [pri´saisli] ad.精确地；刻板地 (高中英语单词)
- defect [di´fekt, ´di:fekt] n.缺点，不足 (高中英语单词)
- coachman [´kəutʃmən] n.赶马车人 (英语四级单词)
- jingle [´dʒiŋgəl] v.(使)叮当响 (英语四级单词)
- audible [´ɔ:dibəl] a.听得见的 (英语四级单词)
- obstinate [´ɔbstinit] a.顽固的；(病)难治的 (英语四级单词)
- withdrawn [wið´drɔ:n] withdraw过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- sincerity [sin´seriti] n.真诚；诚意 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- vexation [vek´seiʃən] n.烦恼(的原因) (英语六级单词)
- fickle [´fikəl] a.轻浮的；多变的 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuously [kən´temptjuəsli] ad.蔑视地；傲慢地 (英语六级单词)
- extended [iks´tendid] a.伸长的；广大的 (英语六级单词)
- wherewith [wɛə´wiθ] ad.用什么；用以 (英语六级单词)
- departed [di´pɑ:tid] a.已往的；已故的 (英语六级单词)
- inexplicable [,inik´splikəbəl] a.难以理解的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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